Letters To Santa
by Smudge93
Summary: Four very different letters to Santa. Done for the Ungen Xmas challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **

Sam needs Dean to write his letter.

Home For Xmas

Howdy Mr C

So I know that my little brother writes you ever year and you ignore him, but he's broken his hand this year so I'm doing it for him, 'cos despite what dad or I tell him, he still believes that you are real. Go figure. I mean come on, a guy in a bright red suit, flying through the air on a sleigh with a red-nosed reindeer, next they'll be telling me that there is a God and that angels are real!

Anyway, back to Sam WhineyChester's Xmas wish. He wants dad home this year, despite him being two states over chasing some spook and that spending Xmas with us is probably the last thing on his mind.

Hell, tell you what, if you pull that one off, I'll promise to believe in you even though, you know, you haven't gotten me a damn thing that I wanted for Xmas in like forever.

If you are listening though, I'd really like that tricked out pistol that my dad's got. Just thought I'd mention it, you know, just in case.

Ho, ho, ho to you, fat, red dude,

Dean Winchester o.b.o. Sammy aged 8 and annoying.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Santa. Ignore him, but send my dad. Sam Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **

Dean writes a letter to Santa in 1984. Will he get what he wishes for?

For the Letter to Santa challenge.

Spoilers: A little bit for parts of S5.

Not Only Santa Can Grant Christmas Wishes

December 1984

Emily looked at the newest addition to the class and watched as he sat staring at the piece of paper that she handed out to everyone ten minutes previously. Whilst all the other boys and girls in the class where busy, excitedly scribbling badly spelt lists of wants and wishes on theirs, he sat, gently chewing the end of his pencil, little legs absently swinging, with a thoughtful look on his face.

She spoke to a few of the other children, correcting their spelling and helping with difficult words all the while edging his way, knowing already that if she singled him out for help he would shy away from her and she would never be able to get him to talk to her. Finally she moved in next to him, kneeling down and smiling, watching as wariness crept its way across his face.

"Hey Dean. Do you need a hand? Can't you think of anything to write or can't you decide what to ask for first?," she asked as his legs stilled and the pencil was pulled free from his mouth.

Solemn green eyes met hers and he leaned in, looking round at the other children before cupping her ear with his hand, startling her at first. Then he asked quietly, "Is Santa real? Can he really give you anything you want for Christmas?"

She whispered back to him, delighted by the fact that this quiet child had actually talked to her. "Well, I believe in him, and he'll try his very best to get you what you want. Is it something special?"

There was a shy little nod of his head.

"Do you need a hand with writing what you want down?" Green eyes met her own and then he shook his head this time. "Ok, but if you need me to help, just raise your hand."

Walking back to the front of the class she turned briefly and saw that he had started to write, his arm curled protectively round his scribbling as if someone else seeing it would stop him getting it.

"Alright kids, five more minutes," she called as she clapped her hands, "when you're finished can you put your letters, with your names on them, into the box on my desk and I'll see that Santa gets them, then go and get your coats and shoes so we're ready for the bell."

----

Christmas 1984

John sat with the letter in his hand, breaking the first wish that his son had made of Santa even as he read it, his tears dropping unheeded onto the paper that he held now tightly scrunched in his hand. If he thought what he'd felt at the loss of his wife was grief then he had no words to describe the pain that was tearing up his soul after reading Dean's 'Christmas Wish List for Santa' that the teacher had handed out to the parent's after her little class exercise. The wish list that only Santa was ever suppose to see.

They were such simple wishes, but ones he hoped few other children would ever have to ask for, especially not before their fifth birthday.

He smoothed the paper back out and re-read his son's childish scrawl, fighting tears again as he took in the two things that Dean desired most in the world at this moment.

The first wish he could and would grant. He vowed never again to let his son see him crying, vowed to be strong, teach his family to be strong, not to allow himself a moment of weakness within sight or sound of his children. This one he could do but the other one, well that was a whole different story.

The other one was a Christmas wish that he had himself and one he could do nothing about. Nothing except help to ease the pain that his son was feeling at the loss of the mother that had nurtured him and raised him with such diligence and love. All he had to do, was figure out how.

Unable to look at it any longer, he folded the letter and tucked into his wallet.

----

Christmas 2009

Dean took another swig from the bottle as he stared at the letter in his hand. He didn't know why he'd kept the damn thing, but it had seemed wrong somehow, when his dad had held onto it all these years, that he should just have thrown it out after John was gone. He opened it now, as he did ever year, unfolding it's brittle fabric carefully and spreading it out on the desk in front of him.

Looking down, he bit into his lip, tiredness and a resurgence of the feelings of that long lost little boy chipping at the last of his resolve and the hot tears rolled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away.

Each year that he did this he always thought that if Father Christmas was really, truly real what he would ask for this time, but each year he had put it away with the two simple requests left untouched.

Yet, strangely, both these requests had, in a way, been granted. He looked at them again.

_My daddy not to cry. _

_My mommy back from the angels._

Well since that Christmas in '84 he had never as a child seen his dad cry again, never seen him cry at all in fact until that day at the hospital….after the crash.

As for the angels giving him back his mother, well, they did, if only for a little while, and although she'd been a much younger version, she had been as sweet as the one that he remembered. Who could forget as well his little head trip into never, never land courteously of the Djinn. Not an angel but still….he'd still had her with him, still heard her laugh again and still seen her smile.

So yeah, maybe, in a roundabout way his Christmas wishes had both eventually been granted. On impulse he picked up the pen and scrawled an addition to the list.

_My brother not to say yes. _

Now that was the thing that he wanted most in the world right at this moment in time. He smiled up at Bobby's ceiling and gave a 'how about it look' to the cracks and the peeling paintwork above his head. Then a little chuckle rumbled through him as another wish entered his head, one that he'd heard a thousand times over whilst watching one of his favourite shows on TV. One he couldn't resist adding.

He grinned as he wrote the words 'WORLD PEACE' in big bold letters across the bottom of the page, the images of hundreds of Miss America candidates in bathing suites asking for the exact same thing causing the grin to widen into a lecherous smile.

"What's that you've got?" Sam's voice broke his reverie and he lifted his head, the smile still there as he did.

"A letter to Santa." He laughed as his brother rolled his eyes at him and then huffed.

"Yeah right. You still asking for a real life-sized Barbie?"

"Every year. You still asking for a Ken doll?" Dean took another mouthful of the whiskey and passed it to his brother.

"Funny," Sam replied as he took the bottle and mimic his brother's action. "You know you're to late, don't you? It's two o'clock in the morning and Santa's not coming to you now anyway 'cause you're not sleeping," he chided Dean fondly.

"Santa's not real Sammy, you know that right?" Dean yawned and stood.

"I know. You were the one that told me, remember?" Sam put the bottle down and watched as his brother carefully folded up the old piece of paper in front of him and tucked it back into his wallet.

"So I was." Dean looked at his watch and moved to stand in front of his brother. "So two o'clock then, guess that means that I have to wish you a Merry Christmas little bro'."

"Yeah, guess it does. Merry Christmas Dean."

"Merry Christmas Sammy."

He climbed the stairs after his brother, watching as Sam got into his bed and settled down before getting changed himself and slipping into the other bed in the room.

Both men were sleeping before they could registered that there was someone else in the room with them and, even though he wasn't a jolly chap with a white beard, and his red suit more resembled a rumpled trenchcoat, he was just as determined that Dean's new wishes on his Letter to Santa would be answered as the man himself would have been.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **

Dean writes a letter to Santa asking for something that everyone needs at some time in their lives. But does he get it?

A Sign Of Something To Believe In

Dear Santa

I'm just asking for your help in getting it right this time, to do the right thing here. Just a sign that saying no is what I'm supposed to do. What we're supposed to do. I'm asking because I thought I'd done the right thing the last time, I mean selling my soul so that my brother could live, how could that possibly have gone so wrong? I started this shit and I left my brother to the wolves. Hell, I threw him to them.

So if you could send me just one little sign that this fight is the right one, I'd be grateful. A sign that I shouldn't just do what I did downstairs and say enough, just throw in the towel and take the easy way out. A sign that I should keep fighting and that we can win.

See right now, I'm lost in the dark, so can you send me a light?

Dean

-----

Dec 25th

Sam yawned and rolled over, sitting up when he saw his brother across from him, perched on the edge of the bed with two small silver tags hanging down from the chain that was wrapped round his fingers. "Are those….."

"….dad's dog tags?" Dean raised his head and Sam could see the tears that glistened in his brother's eyes. "Yeah."

"But I buried them on mom's grave." Sam took the tags from his brother, turning them over and noting the earth that still clung to them in places. He looked up at Dean. "Where were they?"

"On my pillow when I woke up." Reaching across Dean took them back from his brother and slipped them round his neck, enjoying the feeling of having something precious rest against his chest again.

"But how? Is it some sort of sign?" Sam was still looking at Dean's chest and missed the smile crossing his brother's face.

"Yeah, I think it is."

Sam looked up. "So, what does it mean?"

Dean's smile widened, renewed vigour in his voice as he spoke. "It means we keep fighting like dad would have wanted us to." He lifted the tags and almost whispered the next words. "It means we're going to win."

Sam gave him a bewildered look. "Is does? How?"

Hope shone in Dean's eyes for the first time that Sam could remember in a long time.

"Because now, I believe we can."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **

Rhonda has a Christmas wish that she makes to Santa.

For the Letters to Santa challenge!

Little spoiler for a conversation in 5.04 but not for the episode itself in any way.

All Rhonda Wants For Xmas

Dean felt the slight tug of his jacket as the waitress in the diner bumped him on his way by her to the restrooms and slipped something inside its pocket with a skill that even he would have been proud of.

Ducking to get by the low hanging Christmas decorations in the little corridor leading to the toilets he slipped inside the door and into one of the cubicles, sitting down on the lid and pulling the items from his pocket. There was a letter and a small packet.

He opened the letter first.

_Dear Santa _

_I have been a very good girl this year so I wondered if it was alright to ask you for a very special present tomorrow? I've even sent you my own wrapping for it. I think you'll know what I'm asking for, you are Santa after all. _

_It's all I want for Xmas. _

_Rhonda Hurley x _

Dean chuckled as he opened the packet and held up the contents. "Kinky. Good girl my ass." He took a pen from inside his jacket and turned the letter over.

D_ear Rhonda _

_I'm not sure that you have been a good girl like you say but even naughty girls deserve to have at least one thing to unwrap on Xmas day. I've got a good idea what you want, not sure the wrapping is big enough, that doesn't mean I won't give it my best shot at fitting it in for you. _

_Wishing you a pleasure filled Xmas. _

_Santa. _

He brushed by her on the way out, slipping the letter in her pocket. She smiled as she read it and watched as he got in the car, grinned at her and pulled away.

----

Rhonda laughed at the Santa hat that hung lopsidedly off his head as she opened her door to him. "Aren't you suppose to come down the chimney?" she asked him as she stepped back enough to let him in.

He eyed her sheer top and the short skirt. "Aren't you suppose to be a good girl?"

"Hey honey, I'm always good." Suggestion dripped from her words and he moved closer.

"Can't argue with that," Dean grinned at her as he pulled her into his arms.

"So did you wrap my present or what?" A little blush coloured his cheeks and she knew she had her answer. "Let's see then."

Shaking his head he pulled at the waistband of his jeans and flashed her a little pink satin and black lace, laughing embarrassedly as she clapped her hands and squeaked. "That is the best Xmas present ever. How do they feel?"

Dean thought for a moment. "I'm going to go with snug, _very_ snug," he said as he kissed her neck, feeling the vibrations of the laughter that bubbled through her.

"So when do I get to unwrap you...er my present?" Sliding her arms round him she let him back her up through the bedroom door of the small apartment that she lived in.

"Soon. Need to get rid of the delivery packaging first." Dean kicked the door shut behind them and shrugged his jacket off, stepping back to let her pull his t-shirt over his head. He lent in for another kiss. "Besides, I kinda like the feel of them," he offered, blushing fully now as he realised what he had just admitted. "I swear I will deny saying that or doing this until my dying day," he sighed as she dissolved into giggles against him.

"You are so hot for doing this for me." She slid her hands up his chest and delighted in the shivers that ran through him.

"It's kinda hot that you asked me to." Sliding her top off he noted the pink satin, black lace bra underneath, a little thought crossing his mind as he did. "So if I'm wearing these and they match that….what have you got on?"

She whispered in his ear and it was his turn to laugh softly.

"Oh you so shouldn't be getting a present from Santa, 'cos that there? That's just naughty," he chided in a delighted voice.

"That's Santa's present to you." She looped her arms round his neck and smiled sweetly at him.

"Remind me to thank him, never did like lots of wrapping." He freed her from the rest of hers before he slid his jeans down and off.

"Oh my God!" Her eyes widen and she snorted a giggle at the sight in front of her. "You so weren't kidding when you said they were snug." Reaching out Rhonda ran an appreciative hand over his pink satin covered backside, drinking him in with her eyes....until she got to his feet.

Laughing she pointed at his socks that Sam had given him that morning and insisted that he wear that day. "Ok lover boy, loose the reindeer socks, I ain't traumatising Rudolf……but you can keep the hat on……," she grinned widely, "….'cos I think I want to thank Santa personally for my present this year."


End file.
